After Darkness Falls
by Cytherene Wolfe
Summary: Chaos reigned at the end of the War of Darkness, when the Veil between the Muggle and Wizarding worlds was torn to pieces. In the interim, a handful of individuals have done what they can to expedite the rebuilding process. These are their stories.
1. Prologue: Duty's Mask

_I never thought I'd find myself in this position. Then again, I never thought I'd find myself in much of anything for a while, after the Final Battle. Still, it's nice to have a use again; the whispers still nag at the back of my mind, but it doesn't bother me half so much, now. At least they've been more helpful than harmful. Once I thought it was my mother talking to me, and there are times I'm certain it's true. Right now, though...I'm not so sure."_

The old clock rang tinnily, distracting her from her writing. It was time to get ready for work. Sighing, she closed the old leather-bound book, carefully folding both quill and book in the patched cloth that was once her baby blanket. Once that was carefully stowed away with her belongings, she pulled out everything she was going to need tonight; her lucky silver crumpled-snorkack earrings, the small cameo choker set on a strand of freshwater pearls, the makeup kit, the wand holster, the party and backup masks, and the two blow-guns specially crafted for the situation.

But of course, they were REALLY only hairsticks. Still, to be entirely certain, she gave each one a sharp tap. Satisfied with the hollow sound, she unscrewed the rear end of one, ensuring the darts were in place. She only had four, which was unnerving enough; not even the Final Curse could save her if she missed her target on the first shot.

With everything else in place, she changed into the dress hanging from the bathroom door; it was an elegant mandarin-necked halter style dress, with sapphire-sequined carp dancing in a small forest of pearled lotus. It was a little small in the hips for her liking, but that was her only real complaint. The bag's bamboo handle had been changed for simple black-lacquered handles that seemed to compliment the bag much more than the original had. After fixing up her hair (and making sure the plugs were in place, to prevent any unfortunate accidents), she called for a taxi, using the instructions she'd been given from the Department of Muggle Relations.

The party was heating up by the time she arrived, and she was relieved that it was a masked event; it had allowed her to partly cover up her distaste with the stench of beer, smoke, and whatever else unidentifiable had been in the back of the cab. Depositing her coat with the concierge, she scouted out the place to find the best position. Long practice told her where her target would be and, knowing what she did of the Malfoys, she wasn't counting on any changes in plan. Their pride wouldn't allow it.

Halfway across the room, she was stopped by one of her contacts; there was a change in plans, after all. Thankfully, they were prepared this time, and she accepted the invitation to "take in the sights and chat a while." The whole time, she filled her in on the situation, and how the new arrangements could make her assignment twice as difficult as before.

"The time hasn't changed, though, has it?"

"Thankfully, no," they replied. "Here's your things; you left them at my house."

"Thanks. Be right back."

"Be careful, Lune."

She ducked into the ladies' restroom, making sure the place was empty before taking a stall. She pulled out the hair sticks, sliding the silver ones in as placeholders, then double-checked the darts. Still good, though the heat was starting to get to the plugs. It was no matter; it was about time, anyway. Pulling out her wand, she checked one final time to make sure she was alone.

_"Duoego!_" she hissed, pointing towards one of the sinks. In moments, an exact duplicate of herself materialized in front of the sink. Closing her eyes in concentration, she put together a series of events for the copy to follow, and soon it was touching up its makeup and humming a little tune. Only someone who was paying attention would notice it was the same four notes over and over, but copies only had a limited capacity for memory, and she was tasking herself enough as it was.

Then, applause sounded, and the copy left the room. As she turned away, Luna hurriedly changed into the other set of clothes, before blacking her face and applying the second mask. Finally ready, she tossed the bag out the open bathroom window, mentally noting where it landed...then let the shadow overtake her senses.

Everything took on a hazy black-and-white hue in her Shadowshade form, but it would be easier to get into position this way. As the lights dimmed to prepare for their guest speaker, she assumed her position, pulling the plugs from the first blow gun. Curarecao wasn't her preferred method, but if the cone shell didn't take, then it would have to do. Using extreme caution, as the darts were pure concentrated and solidified forms of the poison in question, she prepared her strike as a nervous-looking Lucius Malfoy took the stage. She grinned when she noticed his nervous habit of looking around and rubbing his neck hadn't changed. _Perhaps this'll be easier than I thought._

Even in the dim light, she could see the inky blackness that was beginning to overtake the blow gun; if she didn't move faster, it would spread to the floor...and anything touching her. Speed and time were essential to a Shadowshade, and she was losing both. As the roar of applause began to rise again, she breathed as deeply as she could, careful not to expand herself into someone else.

And finally, when the sound of clapping was at its loudest, she struck. She couldn't tell if the slight wince was contact, or if that was a nervous tic. She'd have to find out later; staying here wasn't an option. She stepped from shadow to shadow, leaping between columns when she couldn't find a host walking or bridging the paths of light. The whispering voices began calling out to her again, begging her to come and be one of them. They got louder with each step she took, no matter how many times she tried to silence them. Just as the feeling of dissolution began again, she felt something solid connect with the middle of her back, and the shadow form solidify into her normal body. She spun around to see her contact, a hand inside her robes...and the other holding the crystal point that had poked into her back.

"Where is yours?" Compassion hissed.

"Close by." With that, she turned and made her way over to the doors, keeping to the shadows out of habit. Her contact followed closely, keeping the crystal at hand. As soon as they were out, she reached out, snatching the handles as the car pulled up.

"I take it I was successful, then?" she asked as they pulled away. Naturally, she had been; otherwise, they wouldn't be having this conversation. She would also probably be surrounded by a lot more crystal.

"You were," Compassion said, removing her mask. "I've never understood what you had against curarecao, since you seem to be so effective with its use."

"It's slow," she sighed. "Much too slow, and the effects are unpredictable. How do we know it worked on Malfoy, anyway? Given how deep he was into the Dark Lord's affairs, I wouldn't be surprised if he was immune to any poison out there."

The third person in the car sighed, making Luna jump a little. "Because our other agents have done their homework. Malfoy spent so much of his time underestimating and sniping at Muggles that he never took the time to really see what sort of threats they could pose. Curarecao is a magical mixture of Muggle poisons on its own which, if fired by someone else, might be ineffective against Malfoy--if only for the magical elements of the poison."

"Okay..so what makes this so much more different?" Mentally, she kicked back; Honesty's explanations tended to be real winners, beating even some of the things her father used to print in the Quibbler.

"It's simple; the user is what makes it different. The mixture wasn't complete until it was placed in your hands. The final component we needed to make it a successful tool was Shadowshade essence." She held up a hand, stopping Luna's question before it was asked. "Certainly, we have...others...who could have successfully completed the mixture before the mission. However, the final result would not have been portable, nor could we guarantee the stability for anything longer than a few moments."

"That, and I'm the only Shadowshade in the Department you trust," Luna added, eyebrow raised in bemused curiosity."

"For the time being, yes," Honesty replied in a cool voice. "And so long as we have reason to trust you, no harm will come to you. Speaking of such things, what is the state of your mind, these days?"

She sighed. "Sunny days are a bear, but it's been all right. The crystal itches a bit, but doesn't do a whole lot else."

"You keep it on you, then?" Luna lifted the little teardrop-shaped pendant, which glinted a little in the passing streetlights. "Excellent. Let us know immediately if it should need replacing." Turning to the window, Honesty's mask took on a temporary brilliant glow as lighting flashed.

"And now, to rebuild the Veil."


	2. Prologue: Compassion's Mask

"Miss Chang, this really has to stop. This is the second time you have been seen using magic to complete your duties, despite knowing it is against the guidelines you agreed to when you joined us."

Outside, she put on as friendly a smile as she could manage; inwardly, she grit her teeth and wished a most painful death on the sneaky little brownie that had forced her to use magic in the first place. Working in a Muggle library was enough of a challenge that she didn't need the added aggravation. "Of course, Mr. Mapplethorpe. I promise it won't happen again, regardless of the circumstances."

"I should hope not. You have been an otherwise excellent employee so far, Miss Chang. It would be a pity to lose you."

And with a curt nod, the old man spun on his heel and walked away. She waited for him to be well outside of hearing range, then turned back towards the shelves, glaring angrily at the grinning brownie who'd hidden behind Volume Six of the Encyclopedia Britannica. Sighing, she pushed the banishing spell from her mind and instead produced the tiny Binaca spray from her pocket. It wasn't even half as efficient as Muggle household insect spray, but if it was effective even in the short term, it would do. Let the night shift see how they like these buggers.

The frown instantly reversed itself as she watched the brownie dance away in a hopping fit of pain as the minty spray bit at its eyes. It wasn't a banishing spell, but it would have to do, and she sighed wistfully as she returned to her shelving duties. She was off in a half-hour, anyway.

Magic had been something of a complicated affair since the War of Darkness ended. Voldemort had been defeated--for good, this time--but the price had been high. Too high; everything about the magical world changed, including its most important aspect: secrecy. The moment Voldemort's body had hit the ground, the magical Veil separating the Muggle and Wizarding worlds had collapsed entirely. Barrier spells and shields became particularly weak, though all magical effects were operating strangely. Places that were once Unplottable were now cropping up even on Muggle maps. Neither Ministry knew how to handle the situation, and Muggle/Wizarding relations were at its worst, with riots and random street violence breaking out all over the place. It was some time before arrangements were made, and new laws set in place. Soon, the Magical and Muggle Ministries had formed a temporary merger of sorts, with squads of wizards working together to reinstate the Veil while Muggle specialists tried to find a way for magic to coexist with the Muggle way of life. It had been about three years since then, but progress was slow, and all developments had been minor.

In the meantime, witches and wizards living within Muggle communities were encouraged to relocate to formerly magical--or even Squib--communities, if only for personal safety. Magical law enforcement was forced to a strange sort of flexibility; magic in the presence of Muggles was more of an inevitability than a crime, anymore, but punishments for magical infractions were more harsh.

Thankfully, she hadn't done anything particularly noticeable; a small concealment spell to cover the brownie. She could have left it exposed--and with the effectiveness of the spell, she might as well have--but that would probably lead to her being blamed for its presence to begin with. All she could do was hope it stayed gone long enough for her shift to end, while she collected all the books that had been strewn over the floor. At least they were organized, thanks to the magic she'd been caught doing.

Just as she finished, one of the circulation clerks came to get her attention. It was a patron looking for a particular book in her section. She followed the clerk to the front desk, then asked them to transfer the call to the break room; she knew better than to take this particular call out in the open.

"Good evening, and thank you for calling the London Metropolitan Library. This is Cho; what might I help you find this evening?"

"Good evening. The book in question is the Cliffs Notes booklet concerning Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. Does your branch have it?"

"Yes, we do. I can hold it for you overnight, but that's the best I can do. Will that suffice?"

"Actually, I was also wondering if your branch was on the inter-library loan system? I can't make it down to the main branch for a couple of days, but if you could transfer it to the Fulham branch, I would be most appreciative."

She thought for a moment, though she already knew the answer. "We are on the system, though I am not certain the Carle Park location is. I can certainly look into that for you, if you'd like?"

"If you would, please. I will be available at this number, when you find out the information."

Taking down the number, she thanked the caller for their time, then hung up. After that, she immediately made note of the time and location of the next meeting; her second job was starting late tonight, compared to other nights. What was tonight's assignment, though? Stowing the note in a secret pocket of her purse, she went back out into the stacks to finish what she started.

Finally, five o'clock came. As she drove home, she went over the note in her head, committing as much to memory as she could manage. There was a moment of distraction, when the news broke with information concerning Lucius Malfoy's death; thankfully, they were stupid enough to think he'd ingested it, and were investigating the wait staff. It was the wrong trail, and poor luck to them, but they did what they had to do. That was all that mattered.

Once she was home, all she had to really do was wait. Her Muggle roomate had moved out a week ago, so there wasn't anyone to lie to, anymore. That was a pleasant experience; it also meant no shielding phone calls, and the only time she had to worry about code was when she had calls at work. Making herself a cup of darjeeling tea, she kicked back and watched the sun's descent. When she felt drowsy, she went over to her bedroom, set the alarm, and decided to take a nap. The less tired she was at the meeting, the better she'd probably understand what was going on.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the alarm, but the loud knocking that woke her at eleven forty-five. She answered the door to find Luna standing there, bag over her shoulder. The look on her face was a mixture of bemusement and impatient irritation.

"We'll be late, you know. Honesty's wondering why you've not answered her calls."

"Must've slept through the ringer," she muttered, silently cursing at herself as she ran back to her room to grab her things. "Thought I had the damned thing at full volume!"

"Well, no use crying over spilt pumpkin juice. Oh, and I took the liberty of fixing your car, before I woke you up."

Cho froze mid-step as she was rushing back towards the door. "There should've been nothing wrong with my car. What do you mean, you fixed it?"

"Oh, nothing," she sighed, shrugging. "Only that someone apparently was trying to steal your front right tire, and was rather unsuccessful. On the other hand, you got a free car jack out of the whole thing, and I doubt he'll bother you anymore." With a sly grin, she produced the greasy car jack in question, before letting it fall to the side. "Funny contraptions, those."

"You mean you saw him?" She ran past Luna out the door, looking to see if she could find any trace of the would-be thief.

"What? Oh, yes, I saw him. Rather embarrassing little fellow, too. Didn't much like me, but the feeling was mutual. In any event, here are your keys."

Cho looked at Luna's hand, unnerved to find her car keys dangling from her index finger. "Don't. Do. That. In. My. House." She enunciated every word, hoping to get the point across. Luna's suffering of the Shadowshade Curse was unfortunate, but there were elements she wished Luna could do without.

"I won't, if you stop taking too long. Now, let's get going. Traffic's light, thankfully, because I can't jump Muggle devices with me."

"Besides, I rather like my car the way it is, thank you." She cast a quick glance at her little blue Eclipse, trying to picture it slowly turning black and not liking the image. "Still got everything, do you?"

Another annoyed sigh as they got in the car, then the glint of light against crystal. "Yes. Why is it you always ask me that whenever we meet?"

"Because I'm your Watcher, and that's part of what I do," she replied sharply. "Now, keep an eye out for the police; I'm going to buy us some time."


	3. Prologue: Honesty's Mask

"Your White Russian, miss. I'll add that to your tab, shall I?"

"Please," Hermione said, raising the glass in a small toast of appreciation for her barkeep. Norman was a decent enough guy, but he made the best drinks in town. That was about the only thing that kept her coming back to this dive; the Fox and Chicken wasn't anything on the Three Broomsticks, but it was closer to where she tended to work. Well, that, and Rosmerta wasn't around to learn the fine art of the White Russian anymore, and her replacement...well, frankly, he could mess up butterbeer--a talent in its own twisted sort of way. She checked her watch--a gift from an old friend--and sighed in agitation. "Norman, what time is it?"

"Time to get a new watch, Miss Granger," he said, not looking up from the glass he was cleaning, but pointing to the clock over his shoulder. Of course, in getting lost in her own musings, she'd completely blanked about the perfectly-functional clock well within plain sight. "You ever gonna replace that old thing?"

"As soon as I remember to, Norman," she sighed. "Love to chat, but I must be going; what's the tab?"

She paid off tonight's total, then headed out to hail a taxi. It was slower, but wasn't quite so attention-getting as a woman behind the wheel fresh out of a pub. Besides, explaining that to Muggle Relations would be a challenge in its own right. Once she had the cab, she gave it directions to the apartment complex over by Carle Park. She could check in with her superiors and ensure there wasn't anything particularly special to bring up at tonight's meeting, and also wait for the other two to arrive. Duty tended to be rather punctual...but then again, she didn't have a Muggle job to hold her down. Compassion, on the other hand, was stuck in a Muggle library. Fascinating as the job was, sometimes the other staff could be something of a challenge. Thankfully, that could be worked around in a pinch without bending too many rules.

She was disappointed to still not see Cho's car in the parking lot, when she arrived at her destination. When she got in, she placed a call to Duty, asking what she knew of the situation. Thankfully, that seemed to resolve itself in short order, and it was only a few minutes between then and Compassion's arrival, flourished by a rather hasty (and surprisingly good) parallel-parking job. She was doubly relieved to see Duty with her, though she couldn't say why; she had always been trustworthy, and being a Shadowshade didn't seem to have changed that. She waved them over to the seventh oak from the right, then tapped it seven times. As they approached, a root split open, revealing a shallow, narrow stone staircase descending into the ground. She didn't risk the flashlight until after she was already belowground, making her way to the small conference room in the back. After lighting the fire in the fireplace and getting a few candles, she went back and motioned for the others to follow. When they had, the root closed up above them, effectively sealing them in.

"I'm glad you could make it. Sorry about the short notice, but word from Headquarters is spotty at best, these days."

"What do you mean, 'spotty'? Aren't you the Ministry's direct affiliate for us?" Compassion asked, a little nervous tension creeping into her voice. She had always been under the impression that they were working directly for the Ministry of Magic. Was she wrong?

"Of course she is; we just tend to get a bit more free-reign than the others do. Even the Aurors are jealous of us--though never out loud. And no, I'm not reading their minds," Duty added nonchalantly, turning to face Honesty. "It's rather difficult to read minds when their surface thoughts are screaming. But you'd know all about that, now, wouldn't you?"

"All the same," Honesty replied stiffly, shooting a glare at Duty through her mask, "remember that you still stand on shaky ground. Every Shadowshade in the Ministry's employ does. Keep current with your tests, make sure you keep your crystal on you at all times except when necessary, and never force your Watcher to do anything particularly dangerous. Speaking of which..." She turned to Compassion, who seemed to be slightly uncomfortable next to her fellow agent. "When was Duty's most recent test?"

"On the way here. Would you like another test, for your records?" She produced her own crystal pendant--wrapped in a faintly-glowing silver wire--and prepared herself for the test. This time, it was Duty's turn to look nervous as Honesty nodded.

"You know the procedure, Luna. Remove your mask, and present your arm for the test."

She sighed a bit, grimacing slightly as she removed her mask and rolled up her robe sleeve. Sure enough, there was a blackish-violet mark from a previous test that still looked fresh enough to be from within the past two hours, though it was slowly healing. "Hell of a beauty mark," she chuckled grimly, then winced as her Watcher applied the crystal to her skin. "So, where's your Watcher, anyhow? Shouldn't she be here with you?"

Honesty cleared her throat. "She will be with us shortly. She had another task to tend to before she could join us this evening. Given the nature of the task, I thought it prudent to leave her be. Let the records show, however," she added, presenting her marked arm, "that I have also been tested recently. Naturally, if it would make you feel better, I'll also re-sit the test."

While this conversation was going on, Compassion was concentrating on the test itself. By all appearances, all she did was touch the crystal to her skin. The problem was that one had to maintain contact to determine the extent of the corruption...and Shadowshades tended to argue, so maintaining a hold on the subject was necessary. Unfortunately, that also tended to invite the attention of the corruptive influence of the Curse, which could be spread by touch. With crystal in such close proximity, the chances of corruption spreading--or even increasing in cursed victims--was minimal at best, but the whispered voices she sometimes heard when she tested someone was more than a little unnerving. Thankfully, Luna wasn't as far gone as some of the subjects they'd captured shortly after the Final Battle, and she shuddered inwardly at the memory. When she heard the voices, and made note of the volume, she sat back. "No change in level, Honesty. She's only been without her crystal once in the past week, and that was to execute her assignment. It was a necessity of duty, and she recovered it as soon as her assignment was completed."

"Honestly, Honesty, does she have to go through all that _every_ time she gives a report?"

"Yes, and more when she's giving an official report to the Magisters. If she doesn't, then that's one more strike against us, and we've so little trust to work on anyway. Push them too far, and the consequences are too dire to imagine. Remember," she added as she took off her own mask with her other hand, "we are almost immortal, but far from indestructable."

"Immortal, eh? I don't think anyone ever mentioned that little perk," Luna said, smiling lightly as she pulled her robe sleeve back down, wincing one last time as her finger brushed the second test mark. "Might make this whole thing worth it, after all."

"It comes with a price, Duty. Everything about the Shadowshade curse does. That's why the Ministry encourages us to use our...abilities...as little as possible. They were actually somewhat displeased when they learned that you used them on the Malfoy assignment."

"Oh, come _off_ it, Honesty! You and I both know that it was the one way that had an almost guaranteed success rate, whether or not the poison did its work. Besides, if we weren't supposed to use it, then why'd you develop the Living Golem spell?"

"Because I knew there would be times when it was inevitable," she replied stiffly, brushing some invisible lint off her robes with her free hand and managing to bite back a gasp as the crystal left her skin. The quick bite of cold was always something of a shock, no matter how often she was tested. "And for your information, I never said I agreed with them. While I don't think we should be...using our abilities for every little thing, I honestly believe our jobs would be much easier if we were permitted free use of them on certain assignments. The Malfoy case was a perfect example of this."

Compassion cleared her throat. "As lovely as this discussion is, ladies, I think we should save it for another time. I think we have a guest." She pointed back towards the doorway, from which a faint tapping sound could be heard over the crackling fire.


End file.
